Late Night Hotel Conversations
by TheCrownedLioness
Summary: A moment not seen in "The Baby Shower". After the embarrassing mix-up involving the switched rooms, Niles leaves to go find C.C., and somehow make up for not trusting her alone in California. Rated T purely for safety.


**Hello again, everyone. I was so happy that I got a good review for my first published story that I've decided to post my next completed one. I hope you enjoy this one just as much as the other one; I think I did a better job in some places in terms of the dialogue being in-character, but I'll leave that up to you to decide.**

 **I still don't own any of the characters, locations, etc., and I never will, either.**

It didn't take too long to find which room was hers. She was waiting at the door, an infuriatingly sexy smirk draped across her face. The satin pyjamas she was wearing _couldn't_ have been legal, not on _those_ curves, and it was making him feel at least thirty degrees hotter underneath his jacket. She must have been waiting for him since Fran left, because of _course_ she'd guess he'd be there, too. A pang of guilt shot through him. She'd been there, on her own, and he hadn't trusted her. Even worse, she'd _guessed_ that he wouldn't trust her and was now probably now prepared to play _that_ up for all it was worth. He deserved it, too. God, how he loved her.

He had to keep it cool, though – he'd just got out of one really embarrassing scenario almost completely unscathed; he doubted it would be exactly the same when it came to apologising to C.C. Babcock for not trusting her on her own for a few days.

She was leaning in the door-frame, arms folded and foot jamming the door open, when he arrived outside.

"Hey, idiot."

Niles huffed out a laugh through his nose, "Hello, witch."

C.C. leaned forward, almost doubled over by her own amusement at the situation, "I might be a witch, but at least I didn't believe some stupid psychic, like _some_ people I know."

"I know, I should have known better." Niles gave her a smirk of his own. "The psychic stipulated the blonde was 'sexy'."

The triumph dropped from C.C.'s expression, and was replaced with a faux form of offence and nonchalance. She straightened up again and leaned her shoulder back against the frame.

"Well, if you wanna come in, you're going the wrong way about it."

"I'm sorry, Babs." Niles shrugged. "The chance was just too good to pass up."

The Broadway producer feigned consideration for a moment, "Hm…alright, I accept your apology. Just consider yourself lucky that you're not sleeping in the hall tonight."

She moved over to let him inside, and closed the door behind them, before making her way over to the bed and seating herself on the edge. She glanced at him expectantly, and it was at this point that Niles noticed he hadn't actually moved that far from the door.

"Are we gonna talk about why you're here instead of New York, or not?" C.C. calmly gestured for him to sit beside her, which he did with extreme hesitation.

Any minute now, it would happen; the side of her which sent actors running from theatres and caused choreographers to burst into tears would explode into life. Then he'd be out on his ear – and his arse, into the corridor – and the dream would be over. All because he felt, wrongly, that he couldn't trust her. His stomach tightened.

"Why didn't you trust me?"

The words came out softer than he'd expected. It didn't relax him any.

"I don't know, and I'm sorry for it." He answered truthfully, because at this point it couldn't possibly hurt more than what she'd do to him if he was caught lying. "I got caught up in the moment. Fran was so worried, and what the psychic said seemed to make so much sense."

"What, about a blonde in Maxwell's bed?" C.C. scoffed. "If it was anything like what happened in here, I don't need to be psychic to guess the only blond in Maxwell's bed ended up being _you_."

A strange, thoughtful look crossed over Niles' face, and he forgot to be worried about anything, "What do you mean, 'anything like what happened in here'?"

"Nanny Fine thought this was Maxwell's room," she explained with a half-shrug and a vague hand gesture. "Need I say more?"

The smirk reappeared on Niles' lips, "Well, it seems 1993 Babcock got what she wanted, after all."

C.C. blinked, "What do you mean?"

"She ended up in bed with a Sheffield."

A pause. Then, stifling a laugh, C.C. covered Niles' hand with her own and looked into his eyes.

"Consider it the first _and_ last time. With _either_ of them. You can trust me."

"I know that." He was about to lean in for a kiss, when something off to one side distracted him. A photo frame, on the night-stand. Leaving C.C. sat, he stood up, took the picture and studied it.

He remembered it being taken, perfectly. It was a couple of days after he'd got back from his family reunion in England, and C.C. had insisted on testing out a camera she'd recently purchased. She claimed not to know why she'd picked _him_ as a subject, seeing as his face would probably break it. He reminded her it was because only people with souls showed up in photos, so that ruled _her_ out on principle. But he thought she'd gotten rid of the actual picture.

"What's this?"

"It's a photo of you, what do you think it is?" C.C. tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Well, I can see _that_." Niles indicated to the table using the frame. "But why is it over here? You sleep on the right hand side in bed, usually."

C.C. slid further along the bed towards him, "I haven't here, in this bed."

Niles sat back down again, closer this time, so their thighs were touching, and looked at her in a silence request for clarification.

"I…I slept on the left. Next to the night-stand with your photo on it." C.C. ran a hand through her hair, blowing small strands out of her eyes. "I don't know, with it right there it felt like…you were sleeping next to me, I guess."

Niles' hands cupped her face, brushing away the hair that had been bothering her and slipping it behind her ears. He smiled.

"…I love you."

An uncharacteristic blush crept onto C.C.'s face. Anybody she'd ever worked with would probably insist that she was not the same woman.

"I love you, too."

She closed the gap between them, and pulled his lips into a passionate kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and his roamed her waist and back, gripping her tightly as lips deepened into teeth and tongues. The hand that had been nearest her waist slipped onto her hip, and down her thigh, and she struggled to remove his jacket. He helped her with it, casting it onto the floor, and moved to push her down onto the mattress. But then responsibility occurred to him.

"What time is your press conference tomorrow?" he panted between kisses.

"Eleven o'clock," C.C. replied, removing one hand from his face to caress the exposed skin between his risen-up shirt and his belt buckle, teasing between the two, "why?"

Niles pulled back, "It's late; I should let you sleep."

C.C. shook her head and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, "Oh, no you don't – you finish what you've started, Butler Boy."

In one swift move, she pulled him back down on top of her.


End file.
